Happiness Is a Warm Gun
by ChaosIsFun
Summary: Life is a long journey and people make enemies along the way…some more than others.But what happens when an unknown enemy resurfaces against the Joker in Gotham City? Will he extinguish the threat or revel in the new found chaos? HarleyxJoker/Potential JokerxOC


**Happiness is a Warm Gun**

**Description:** _Life is a long journey and people make enemies along the way…But what happens when an unknown enemy resurfaces against the Joker in Gotham City? Will he extinguish the threat or revel in the new found chaos? HarleyxJoker/Potential JokerxOC_

**Authors Note:**_After a long while of reading Joker fics I couldn't help but attempt one myself. So here it is! Hopefully my OC isn't too stereotypical, and apologies if I didn't get the Joker right so far, its surprisingly difficult to write him. But I'll have more opportunities in future chapters to delve into his character with more success…hopefully. So thank-you for reading and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!_

* * *

It was surprising how much getting yourself delivered inside a fake cake actually costs…

It's the sort of scenario you see on television and you wonder exactly how much it would be to have something similar done….you'd be shocked at how much they charge for a cardboard cake and a slutty costume now days. Although, robbing you blind in plain sight isn't exactly a new thing in the Narrows.

Still here she was, sitting in the centre of a fake cake, being delivered all the same. It was no secret Kate liked to add a flourish to things and with the way things were going business wise, she was able to splurge a little on the nice little touches.

There was a small bump under her, causing her to jolt slightly and her hat fall from the top of her head. Kate grumbled to herself as she haphazardly squirmed inside the constricted space to bring her hands up to fix her hat. After a few seconds of awkward squirming, she had _finally _got it.

After a few moments, the movements ceased. Kate sucked in a deep breath and went as still as possible, listening to a door as it was opened, the hinges being old and creaking. Then there was a pause and a muffle of exchanged words. Then there was a little bit more movement before a definitive stop. Tension around her was now thick in the air, like breathing in soup-like air.

There was now talking, deep male voices rumbling surrounding the cake. It was difficult to distinguish, but she heard the unmistakable voice of Jack Maroni – the quick replacement for his recently deceased brother, Sal.

"_What_ is this? I didn't order any cake." His voice was gruff like a growl from a sore throat, breaking off slightly in areas that he was particularly tense over. There was silence, the mumblings from the other men (No doubt bodyguards, protection for the replacement was high, considering all of the previous mob bosses had been driven crazy or murdered and with the recent events of the Joker escaping Arkham with his pretty new toy, all of the mob bosses were on edge. He wanted them all dead, it was no secret he despised anything that even remotely tried to challenge his claim on Gotham, and that included mob bosses, so security was certainly increased in turn) slowly decreased until there was nothing. All that remained was an awkward silence, the grumbling of the delivery man and then the prompt slamming of the door.

Silence prevailed.

There was the noise of a creaking chair; she assumed Maroni had sat down. There was an odd sensation running down Kate's spine. The type when people hover over your shoulder or look at you from behind, the tell-tale instinctual knowing - That tingle of awareness that you know you're being watched; and It was going _crazy _right now…

With a muted sigh Kate awkwardly adjusted her hat and went on with the show.

Kate broke out from the top of the cake in a flurry of glitter and confetti, which should've been a marvel given her current outfit. She stood, perfectly poised given she had just broken out of a cake, wearing a cropped deep red military styled jacket – lapels and all, which was prolonged in the back, with an extremely tight (to the point of discomfort, she noted with a hint of irritation) black corset and matching knicker shorts which the corset flowed flawlessly into, like they were the same item of clothing. To go with this odd garb was a pair of stockings, ridiculously high heeled boots and a rather odd looking top hat. Her make up carried the theme with a mix of red and black accents.

But it wasn't their outfit they were looking at, no; it rarely was the centre of attention. Not that she blamed them, however. Curiosity was perfectly natural….albeit annoying in times like this, however.

The unfortunate centrepiece of the look wasn't the top hat, or the jacket; but a rather vicious looking scar which ran from above her eye down to just above her lip – practically the entire length of the left side of her face. That's what all eyes were upon, so…she needed to distract the gun wielding mobsters. Where better to start with a smile and an overly sweet voice?

Kate lifted her arms with a coy giggle and stepped from the cake. "I have a congratulations for a certain Mista'…Jack." A Hand on the hip and exposed thighs did wonders as the men went from silent to appreciative mumbles. Maroni wasn't as grumpy as he was before, either.

"Is there a Jack here?" Kate batted her eyelashes, making herself inwardly cringe at the soppiness of her act as she stood; looking like a lovesick puppy. Thankfully she was put out of her sickening misery by the man himself. "I'm Jack." He spoke plainly, his eyes darkly pinned upon her chest.

Smooth.

With yet another heave-worthy grin she walked around the desk, eyes wide and lips pouting. "A little birdy told me you got a promotion..." With a coo she spoke, walking until she stood directly in front of the new leader; who relished the attention. "You heard right." His lips curved into a small grin on one side.

If anything could be said about Jack Maroni, it was his grin was full of one thing – Sleaze. It was that type of grin that girls recoiled from. It wasn't hideous, heck he wasn't even that bad looking. It was just the aura it gave out. Overly confident, self-serving, vain, they were not exactly endearing attributes.

Not that it mattered however, so without further notice and a second to hide any disdain that may have appeared through the cracks of her faltering visage, Kate threw herself on the man and was greeted with a multitude of woops and crude comments. The man himself put his arm around her waist with a short cackle. "Well aren't you forward?" He looked down towards her with that same sleazy smirk plastered on his face, the matching look in his eye just topping off the repulsive nature.

"_Well _you're not complaining_, _sugar…But I have to get to business now, don't I?" With a smile Kate began to toy with his tie.

"And what business is that?" He cooed down her ear, his hand reaching up her back ever so slowly; his fingers moving in a creepily slow pace. Kate bared her teeth in a toothy grin. "I have a message to give you; in fact, it's very important."

As he leaned in to her, Kate pressed her hand against her own thigh, which was unfortunately against Jack's legs – He seemed to take the pressure of her hand in that area as a signal for something far more intimate. His eyes travelled to her hand and then back to her face with a knowing grin. "I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."

Thankfully Kate reached what she was trying to – the knife she had conveniently hid in her shorts. Then, with a smile as he was distracted she leaned closer, her lips now against his cheek and able to whisper into his ear. "Oh, you'll just die..." Then with that she brought the knife up from its hidden place, allowing Jack and the men behind her who had gotten closer for the show to see. It was promptly pressed against his throat; he gasped and jolted back, causing the knife to cut his throat very slightly.

"Now now, don't move sweetie I haven't told you the message." Kate found herself grinning even more as she placed the knife back against his throat, this time applying slightly more pressure. Luckily the men behind her hand moved, but slightly watched the scenario in front of them. "If any of your little friends move I will cut through you like a piece of paper – understood?" Her eyes burned down into his and he nodded carefully as not to cut himself again. Hi eyes were now darting to the men behind her in a moment of sheer panic. "Tell them not to move." When she got no reply, Kate pressed the knife down again. "Do. It."

He finally complied. "Don't move an inch I swear ta' god. She's crazy." He squeaked, it odd how high a man's voice gets when he's in a situation of extreme fear, Kate mused silently to herself as her lips began to twitch in an unconscious grin. "Thank-you." Then, with another flourish of a grin Kate continued' "Okay honey the message is – You're fired." Then without further word she brought the required pressure down onto the blade, taking pleasure in those few moments as she sliced the delicate skin of his throat across, bringing a waterfall of red in its wake. It was an odd thing, to take a life. The moment their eyes widened and the iris are darkened in awareness of their own passing.

Those few seconds as the knife connects with the skin, where they're completely aware of what's happening, and then the aftermath that follows as their entire being simply drains into the carpet in a symphony of guttural noises until all you're left with is a dripping mess and an eerie silence. _Such bliss…_

Kate came back to the world with a dreamy like smile. Looking down at the corpse and the lifeless eyes with a satisfied hum, slowly she turned in the seat, stepping off the body and wiping the blooded knife unceremoniously upon her jacket sleeve.

Her eyes then looked up from the smudged surface of the blade to be greeted with a crowd of men pointing guns directly towards her. It was _always the best laid plans_, the thought solemnly.

"That's not exactly how you show gratitude fella's. You compliment a gal…not point a 40 calibre pistol at her head, or several." Kate stood awkwardly in the mess of her last victim, knife still in hand as she faced the silent men. Slowly, one gun was lowered. Then, another…

Until eventually only two men remained holding guns; one with slicked back black hair and a nervous twitch in his right eye spoke out. "She killed the boss; we can't just let her get away with that. It's against everything we do." His voice had a thick Italian-American hint to it, but not the usual type. The kind you associate with the stereotypes on television. Like a bad rip of something from "The Sopranos." If that had an incessant nasal quality to it.

"Put the gun down Marty." One of the other men, a bigger guy with a domineering glare, directed towards the guy, but Marty persisted. "You got to' be joking me she's a fucking lunatic we can't let the bitch-.." But he was quickly silenced by a single bullet from Mr Dominator. Marty dropped to the floor with a sickening thud, leaving only silence until Mr Dominator (As he shall now be affectionately referred to from this point on) turned to the last defiant man. "Are there any more objections?" He spoke as a curt threat, but was quickly satisfied as the man dropped the gun and the last drops of resistance flooded from the room, leaving only a silent mutual submission amidst the jumbled thoughts and awkward chaos of the entire scenario.

"So…" Kate offered a smile. "I did my job; you guys have what I asked for?" She was hopeful they'd follow through. Kate had just risked a potential backfiring moment of getting multiple shot wounds in the back and a frontal attack by a potentially strong mob boss. As unlikely as it was, it could've happened in some alternate universe…somewhere.

So she stood, grinning away as Mr Dominator, the orchestrator of the entire mob style mutiny hesitantly stepped forward, walking to a distant corner of the office and retrieving a box. He cast her sceptical glance, clutching the box for just that moment longer to express his doubt. Kate stepped forward, placing her blood smeared palms against the desk, her voice soft and endearing as she spoke. "Listen big guy, I am not going to do anything funny now, am I? I'm a professional" She took in her scantily clad outfit and felt her own eyebrow rise at the words she had just said. "Most of the time" she paused. "Anyway, I delivered as always, now I expect my reward." Kate offered him a wide toothy grin and he placed the box down without further confrontation. "Thanks sugar."

With an excited giggle she pulled the box open and practically jumped on the spot at the sight of what she was hoping for; The Harlequin diamond.

It was beautiful; then again anything worth three million dollars was beautiful in its own right. But this was the jewel in the crown. Literally.

"Aw you, I knew I could trust you big guy, you've made me the happiest gal' in Gotham." She leaned forward and pressed her red lips against the grumpy looking man's cheek, leaving behind a distinct red lipstick stain. He seemed to go a tad bit redder himself, she noted with a growing smile.

"Guess I'll just be going!" Kate hummed delightedly to herself as she closed the box holding the diamond and placed it under her arm. The men remained just looking at her in a bewildered state of mute confusion, which made her giggle again as she went to walk away. But then, she paused.

Jack.

Her mind began racing with a splendid idea of getting her _real _plan rolling. _It was perfect._

Her eyes turned to the now blood coated corpse of the ex-Mob Boss. Her eyebrow creasing slightly at his slumped figure as a beautiful plan popped into her head. "Can I take the stiff with me?"

Her questioned took many of the men off guard, who simply glared at her in a mix of horror, confusion and curiosity. All of which wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. She felt her shoulders deflate a little. "Wellll?"

Mr Dominator turned to her with a nonchalant glare as he shrugged. "Sure, probably best if it isn't in our hands anyway." His voice reminded her of sand paper. Grating weirdly against the ears, like the sound had a rough texture to it, like as if just listening to it for a prolonged time would irritate the ears; maybe it would.

"Thanks, you're a doll, really." Kate relished in clicking her fingers and getting the men that were once under Maroni's thumb to help her lift the corpse inside the fake cake. It was on wheels after all, might as well use what resources you have, she thought with a delighted giggle escaping from her lips. "You've been a real help, really!" She picked up the bar used to drag the cake in her spare hand, her other still grasping tightly to the box which contained the Harlequin diamond. "Call me if you have any jobs you need doing; girl has to make a living after all." And with that Kate went off, dragging her cake full of corpse with her as she went on her merry way, grinning like a contented cat.

The men remained in the blood splatted office for some time after that; silently exchanging glances of bewilderment long after the door had slammed from Kate's exit. They were all as confused as the next guy, wondering what the hell had happened. After five minutes of silent deliberation, they all mutually agreed not to talk about the situation again, and to just settle that the bitch was crazy.

Kate finally settled in her apartment, locking the doors and windows with her various safety latches once she entered the worse for wear room. Now she had the Harlequin Diamond, she couldn't afford to be careless.

Still, the evening was going well. Soon to be topped off by her last genius idea, she had to get his attention some way…might as well make something of a spectacle of it. Kate changed from her ridiculously uncomfortable costume, into her far more modest outfit of old pyjamas, the familiar feel of the material on her skin was comforting, she was a creature of certain habits and when one was fulfilled after such a promising day, it was oddly rewarding.

As she washed away the makeup, Kate found herself momentarily looking up at her scar. It had healed over, but due to shoddy stitching it was left rigid and the main focus on her face. That's what she got for not being able to afford health care. Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of regret over the events which led her to the scars. Mental and physical they acted as permanent reminders of what happened; but as she ran her fingers over the oddly soft skin of her scar she found herself mentally unable to delve into that corner of her mind. Maybe it was best, she mused with a soft hum. Why ruin a good day?

Kate dried her face over and sunk into her old sofa, turning on the dated television set as she snuggled against the thread bare cover of her seat. Once again the news was filled with reports of sightings – only one man mattered in this town anymore. The Joker.

Sightings of him in downtown Manhattan, allegedly taking his new squeeze out on the town in a display of what the news described as "sickening theatrics."

As she settled further against the sofa, she listened intently to what the news anchor had to say on the matter;

"More Reports of the recently escaped convict "The Joker" and his new accomplice, former psychiatrist and doctor of the Joker himself – Harleen Quinzell, now known as Harley Quinn have been flooding in tonight. The Joker has been allegedly sighted in downtown Gotham club, "The Crazy House." Notorious for its links with the Gotham underworld..." Kate couldn't help but giggle at the irony of the Joker visiting The Crazy house…_especially after his recent escape from Arkham asylum._

The news flickered to pictures with a commentary over it. The first image displaying Harleen Quinzell in smudged clown make up and tight fitting red and black argyle dress, dancing in the centre of the club in hysterics whilst being surrounded by the Joker's signature henchmen in clown masks. _So much for being incognito…_

There hadn't been many sightings of the Joker himself, other than the alleged sightings without proof. But the numerous pictures of Harleen/Harley made his presence practically certain. It was odd how seeing the objects of your plan made you feel. Like a happy reminder, or a bitter thought of the plan going wrong. It was a mixed reaction; one Kate wasn't sure how to take. Not that she wanted to ruin her perspective. But the information on where the Joker might appear was always helpful, although one could always rely on the Joker appearing in the narrows eventually; in fact it was almost certain his hideout was within the Narrows.

Listen to enough whispers within the streets of the Narrows and you're sure to find whoever you're looking for, even if that certain someone is a recently escaped supposedly psychotic murderous clown; People just couldn't keep their mouths shut, everyone in the Narrows loved their gossip, and the narrows was the perfect place for the Joker. It was the natural place for him to be. _Perhaps even His natural habitat,_ if there were such a thing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp tones of her phone. It rang madly on the sofa beside her, only silencing once she raised it to her ear and answered the call; "Hello?"

"We're calling to discuss a delivery confirmation..." The voice spoke calmly, professional. It was curt and to the point. The business-like feel of the voice made her feel at ease. "Yes?"

"Your delivery has been dispatched. The recipient should receive it in the next day, hopefully." The voice lightened a little when delivering the good news. Kate was once again giggling, this time with appreciation down the phone to the unknown voice. "Fabulous…and everything was assembled?"

"As you ordered." The voice was curt again, but it didn't faze Kate – she simply continued. "I'm surprised even the short notice..."

"It's our profession…" The voice began, but broke with a short laugh. "And given the bonus paid it was hardly a chore to put together and deliver." Kate smiled as she stood from the sofa, an added spring in her step. "Well thank-you. Your service has been impeccable; I'll be highly recommending your service – thank-you again." The voice pleasantly hummed over the compliment, and once the pleasantries were exchanged she hung up the phone and took a moment to squeal with delight.

_It was all set in motion…after the present was delivered the games would begin…_

(THE FOLLOWING DAY IN GOTHAM CITY...)

Harley had seen her share of weird things since hitting the road with her J. It was almost second nature to stumble onto something beautifully chaotic every now and then. Dynamite, gunpowder…guns…or the masterpiece of a recently dismembered body; Harley felt a cool shiver run down her spine at the last one. It was her favourite, especially if it they had the honour of being dismembered by her pudding'.

Not that she ever dared actually call him Pudding' to his face. _He wouldn't like that…not one bit._

Nope. The last thing she wanted was to upset her J. _He'd kick you out then for sure…_

"Of course not." Harley mumbled, walking down the steps which led to the first floor of the abandoned warehouse where the group were currently residing. "J loves me. He told me so. He couldn't just…just ditch me. No, no. He loves me too much for that." She soothed herself with her mumbles, but the voice in her head just continued to nag. What if he moves on? What if he doesn't love you, what if it was all a lie?

"I don't need you anyhow; all I need is my J." Harley hissed to the voice, the retort silencing the conscience and allowing her to continue walking on the first floor in peace, her mind drifting to her J with a contented sigh.

The only thing ruining the moment was the appearance of an ugly looking blue box. "What the-.." At first, she wanted to kick the thing. Open it, even. But as she got closer she noticed a weird handle on the edge of the box. The curiosity got the better of her, making Harley scan the area to see if others were around. Thankfully, however, the henchmen were clearly indisposed. Leaving her free to examine and maybe even open the box to her hearts content.

But as she reached for it, her hand snapped back as if it had been burned. "No, no... Don't open the box...J will get mad. Very mad." Harley nibbled at her lip, looking back to the stairs from once she came.

Then, she decided to be wise and simply tell him of the weird box. Maybe it was his, another trick of his. Perhaps an odd prop for one of his schemes? She rarely knew things concerning his plans or schemes. He didn't like her knowing, said she _"Wouldn't get the joke."_

As much as it hurt being pushed aside from her J's work – she didn't want to aggravate him by questioning his judgement. It was his choice and he was right. Always.

So she went back up the stairs with a smile, determined to make him see how useful she was – starting with the box.

Harley reached the door of J's private room. He didn't like her going in there, only when he told her was allowed. Even then she couldn't touch anything…she could remember the pain of the knife slicing her palm when she touched one of his cards. He didn't like his things being moved.

So, Harley sighed and knocked twice…but there was no reply.

Once again she resisted the urge and knocked again, this time pressing her ear against the door. "J?"

Nothing…

"Humph." Harley grumbled, pushing a stray piece of dirty blonde hair from her eyes and pushing the door open slowly. It creaked at first, loud and obvious – but as she carefully stepped within the walls of the room she found J sat at his desk in the lamplight (which was the only source of light as J had boarded up the windows) staring determinedly down at his desk. "J?"

He didn't answer, she assumed he didn't hear, perhaps engrossed in his work, she thought meekly as she stepped through and began making her way past the various clutter which covered the floor. J wasn't exactly the most organized of people. He worked best in chaotic surroundings, which included haphazard living areas. "J, I need 'a talk to you." she felt herself frowning when he didn't reply. Still, staring down at what appeared to be nothing on the desk.

So, with a surge of courage she slowly climbed upon the desk, sitting upon her knees before him with a wide grin. "Mist'ah J?"

Clearly this was the right thing to do, she thought with her lips parting further into the grin, if it were possible, as J finally tore his gaze from the desk and looked directly at her. His eyes were the usual dark brown, practically black. His face had gone from passive to…bored. In fact, less than bored if that was possible.

He remained silent, dragging his tongue against the rough edges of his inner mouth, leaning into the desk and tapping it slightly as he regarded Harley for the first time. She felt her stomach flutter as he looked at her so intensely; she wasn't sure what he was thinking however, which caused a momentary flicker of nervousness.

"Wha_t are you doing Har-leey?_?" his glare was cold and his voice that particular dry tone which Harley dreaded to hear. It was just on the verge of him grabbing his knife and ripping her guts out. Harley realised in that moment he wasn't pleased to see her. In fact, he looks completely irritated at her presence. She felt herself gulp. "I…I uh'…I um..." She was reduced to a mumbling mess, which prompted J to simply push her off the desk.

Harley landed with a comic thud upon the floor, daring not to make a single noise of pain as she landed upon the cold concrete ground with a harsh crack. "There's a box downstairs!"

His eyes once again rested upon her face. "Annnd why am I so _concerned_ about one little box?"

"It's new. It wasn't here before – I think it's for you." Harley slowly sat up from the floor, watching as J stood, muttering contently to himself, and walked out the room without another glance in her direction.

After she managed to pry herself from the ground, Harley went off in the same direction; although she had to run to catch and keep up with his long strides, until finally they stood before the blue box.

Harley waited by expectantly, waiting to see the contents – but J turned towards her with hooded eyes, his lips conflicting with the scars as they appeared to tilt downwards rather than the permanent grin of the red smile. He once again ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth at the beginning of the scar before speaking. "_This_ is the _oh-so_ important box?"

"I-..It has a crank on it." Harley felt her throat tightening with acute anxiety. Every time she felt as if the Joker wasn't happy, she felt the familiar stab of nervousness consume her wholly.

J paused, glaring at the box for a long time, mumbling away to himself until he turned towards her with an exaggerated shrug and began to turn the crank. The familiar tune of "Pop goes the weasel" began to play out; thankfully for Harley this seemed to gain his interest and he started to giggle – a low giggle until the lid flung open and the bloodied corpse of a man sprung forward a bit and then slumped as the tune reached its end. The corpse finally settled and J stood back, his giggle still in the air as he took in the sight. It took her a while to get to his side and evaluate the box for herself. "It's a Jack in the box..." Harley looked up at J with confusion evident on her face, but he brought his arm around her with his usual loud twisted cackle. _"Exactly"_

He continued to grin as he pulled a queen of hearts card from the pocket of the dead body. He stared at it silently, making Harley once again chip in to understand. "What's the card for, boss?"

"It's a message ah; you _should_ know tha_t_ already Harley." With his signature grin J went in the other direction, moving the card between his fingers as he went up the stairs; running his tongue against the corner of his mouth as he usually did in habit.

Leaving Harley silently staring at the bloodied box, left to contemplate how to find whoever was behind it _herself…_


End file.
